


Needs

by SpencerRemyLvr



Series: Needs [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Choking, Gift Fic, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, badly written Cajun accent, slight D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerRemyLvr/pseuds/SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer has needs that sometimes get to be too much.</p><p>This is a Cm/X-Men fic but you don't really need to know the X-Men to read it. Only Remy appears in here an there are no powers talked about. More notes inside!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for someone for their birthday, so I followed their general request on what's in it. It was originally supposed to be PWP but I can't seem to write anything without some form of plot and there's more to this than I had planned. I also have notes to make this more than a one-shot, if anyone would be interested in reading. Let me know! I hope you guys like it and please, bear with me my lovelies, this is my first time writing something like this!
> 
> Starts at episode 5 x 20 “A Thousand Words”

Never before had the flight home seemed to take so long. Spencer Reid stared out the window of the jet and tried to ignore everything around him. For all intents and purposes, he looked to be on the verge of sleep. Only those that knew him extremely well would be able to notice the difference. Or, a group of profilers. But even for them it was difficult. Spencer had perfected the art of appearing strong and okay when he had to be. However, Derek Morgan knew his best friend, and he could see the signs that told him everything was _not_ okay.

It was written in the line of his body, the tense set to his shoulder, even in the way he kept brushing his knuckles against his chin. Though he’d seemed fine earlier when playing cards with Emily, amusing them all by counting out the deck after he lost and muttering to himself that he never loses, it was obvious now that those actions had been all a part of his show. A part he played. Derek looked at him now and wondered just what the hell was going on in his friend’s mind. But he didn’t ask. He knew Spencer well enough to know that his question would only be deflected right now. The younger man wasn’t going to open up about whatever was going on; not yet. And definitely not here where others could hear.

Spencer knew that Derek was watching him. He also knew that his friend wouldn’t come to him. There was no one who knew him as well as Derek did. The man would know not to come to him right now. He’d wait it out and he’d come to Spencer at a different time, in a different way, one designed to help his friend open up. _If only I could_. Still staring out the window, Spencer resisted the urge to sigh. What was going on with him wasn’t something that he could talk to his friend about. It wasn’t something that he ever talked about, to anyone. It was something that sat deep down inside of him, all the time, and only came to the surface when he could no longer fight to keep it down. Like tonight.

The sensation of it ran underneath his skin like an electrical charge until he felt like he was vibrating from the feel of it. When the jet landed back at home, he was eternally grateful that he had his car to drive home. There was no way he could’ve handled a ride home from Derek. The man would’ve questioned him during the drive and Spencer didn’t want to have to lie to him. He didn’t want to have to hide from him. Right now, he was too raw inside to have done well at it, anyways. This case, the Unsub with his tattoos and those damnable journals, they had pushed at a place inside of Spencer and unlocked something that he didn’t often let free. Too many people in life had made him ashamed of this part of himself. So he pushed it down, locked it away, until nights like tonight.

A quick goodbye to his friends and then he escaped down to his car before anyone could try to stop him or talk to him. Spencer knew he probably broke the speed limit more than once in his effort to get home quickly. He didn’t care. He needed to get home.

Stepping into his apartment made things just a tiny bit easier and also more difficult. He knew what was coming next. Spencer's hands were shaking as he stripped off his sweater and hung it up in the closet. Nerves skittered down his spine and a twist of fear sat low in his gut. Yet, at the same time, there was such anticipation. _Tonight_. It would be tonight. There was no more waiting. Tonight, he’d get what he needed, and this feeling would finally go away, at least for a little while.

Those nerves and fear stayed with him as he went down to his bedroom and started to undress. It felt like his thoughts were racing. They always seemed to, especially times like this where it had been so damn long since he’d done this.

He knows that this is wrong, what he needs. He knows it. He’s been told so many, many times.  He knows the names for them. He’s known ever since he was fifteen and in college and Ryan Dillon got pissed at him during a tutoring session and grabbed him by his throat and slammed him up against the wall. No one had been more surprised than Spencer when Ryan pressed up against him, the hand on Spencer's throat almost cutting off his air, and they found that Spencer was hard. Completely, unbelievably hard. The young genius had been sure in that moment that he was about to get his ass kicked and thrown right out of the room. That hadn’t happened at all. Instead, Ryan had suddenly turned from the student there to the teacher, and Spencer learned quite a lot over the next two weeks. He’d learned things he’d never even thought of before.

Though he hadn’t known then, he knew the psychological names for some of it now. The words to describe his needs. Asphyxiophilia, or ‘erotic asphyxiation’. Masochism. For him, it all really boiled down to this need to be dominated. Over the years he’d discovered a few hard limits that had never changed, but for the most part, he was happy so long as he wasn’t in control. So long as his pain and his pleasure were in the hands of someone else.

He’s tried to go without this feeling. Tried to live what he was told was a more ‘normal’ life. But the need would creep up on him and, eventually, there was no holding back. He _had_ to have it. Plain vanilla sex could be good; he wouldn’t deny that. It could be wonderful. There were just times that it wasn’t enough. Something would happen and the quiet need living under his skin would start to come to life, consuming him.

Sometimes it was the amount of responsibility that was heaped on his shoulders that got to him. Other times, it was being responsible for something and _failing_ at it.

Often, though, it was his mind that was his downfall. Having an eidetic memory was both a blessing and a curse, something that not many people realized. The things he remembered weren’t always pleasant. Every crime scene, every photo, every autopsy, ever—journal. All of those were branded into his memory. People saw that as a blessing. The ability to remember pretty much everything he ever saw? Wonderful! They didn’t stop to think about what those memories could do to him on a day to day basis. Because they didn’t just stay hidden in his mind until he needed them. They came out all the time. As he was watching a movie, or if he caught a certain scent somewhere, or while making dinner, brushing his teeth, reading a book, talking with friends, taking a shower, sleeping. The memories could hit him out of nowhere.

No one understood what it was like to live with those kinds of things. To have them inside their head _all the time_. To never be able to shut it all off—except when his mind was whited out underneath that pain/pleasure mix that he craved. When he went out and found someone to take control of him, to take him in hand and turn him into a writhing, aching mass of pain and lust and _need_ , he couldn’t think about those horrible things. He didn’t have to worry about what he saw or what was lurking in his memory. He just gave himself over to what he felt in that moment and it was all so good and perfect. In those moments, he lived for the pleasure, for the mind blowing _want_ that would fill him from head to toe, for the sharp bite of pain that would force his brain to live in the moment and not dwell on anything else.

A shudder ran down Spencer's spine. He abruptly realized that his hands were clenching in the shirt he held and he had to take a deep breath and forcibly calm himself before he could relax his hands enough to let go. The need was strong in him tonight. It had been five months since he’d gone out like this and let go, and before that it had been nine months where his body hadn’t been strong enough to handle it because of his injured knee. He’d been resisting it so hard this time, but the words from all the journals he’d read on this case, they were burning in his mind and he couldn’t make them go away. No matter how hard he tried, they wouldn’t go away. Only one thing would take them away.

It’s always like this anymore. That feeling has to get bad, absolutely unbearable, before he crumbles enough to give in. It takes something like this to push him over that edge. Once there, there’s no going back, not until he gets what he needs.

Spencer prepared himself very carefully. This little ritual was as much a part of things as the rest of it. Showering, cleaning himself both outside and in, shaving his face and combing out his hair, putting on just the right clothes. All of it worked to help him strip away SSA Dr. Spencer Reid until only Spencer was left. SSA Reid couldn’t go do these kinds of things, go out and actually seek this out. Spencer craved it more than he’d ever craved the Dilaudid.

Once he was ready a cab took him to a club he was familiar with. There were a few he went to for this. Out of the way bars or clubs where he knew he’d never go with the team and wouldn’t ever be recognized. Places where he could melt into the crowd and look around to find that one person that would join him. Finding someone wasn’t ever difficult. Spencer's eyes were already scanning the room as he stepped into the club. Rising Sun was always full of people and heart thumping music designed to get the blood pumping. This was one instance where Spencer didn’t mind so much the crowded press of bodies. He made his way through them and up to the bar. There he was lucky enough to find an empty barstool and he slipped down into it. Once he caught the bartender’s attention, he ordered a glass of red wine, and when he had his glass in hand, he turned his gaze around to the room and started to look for the person he hopes will give him what he needs.

In these moments, he’s not worried it won’t happen. He knows it will. It always does. He could be the most hideous person on the planet and he knows that someone out there would still want him, still take him up on what he was offering. There was always someone. He just has to find them. Or, let them find him.

For a little bit he just sits there alone and lets himself absorb the atmosphere around him. The throbbing of the music, the steady beat in his ears that draws him in, the flash and movement of all the bodies around him. This club was known to be a mixed club, catering to gay and straight alike, and so there were mixed couples all around him. To his right were two women that were wrapped around one another so much that they were even sharing their barstool. Their low laughter broke through the music occasionally. To his other side, a man was trying his very best game with a woman, and he was failing miserably. Spencer only spared them a brief thought before returning his attention to the floor. The music changed, sped up, and the writhing mass of bodies sped up with it.

Spencer knew that he didn’t quite blend in here, but nor did he stand out. He’d eschewed his usual slacks, shirts and vests for something more casual, more attractive. Something to appeal to others and to please himself. The jeans he had on were an old pair, washed and worn so many times they had an almost butter soft feel to them and they fit him perfectly, hugging his skin. His shirt was a plain teal casual shirt, over which he wore a brown leather jacket. All in all it was a relaxed look for him. One that his friends would most likely be stunned to see him in. None of them had ever seen him in anything but his slacks and button ups.

It wasn’t a fancy look, but it was enough to draw some attention. He’d only been there twenty minutes before he was approached by the first person. A woman with a bright smile and a bold look in her eyes who wasn’t shy about coming to ask him to dance. Spencer gave her a sweet smile and politely declined. A woman wasn’t what he wanted or needed. Not for this.

What he truly wanted, he knew he wouldn’t find here. Not in the best sense. A truly dominant personality wasn’t as easy to find as people might think. He couldn’t just come sit here for an hour an then walk away with a Dom. The best that he would get here, he knew from experience, was a partner that wouldn’t be afraid to be a little rough with him. Someone who wouldn’t be afraid to mix pain and pleasure together. If he wished for more, craved it deep down inside, well, that was just something he’d have to deal with on his own. He couldn’t expect to find someone like that in some random club. The trust necessary for something like that would take more than just a quick meeting. But he could find someone easily enough that would take him just as hard as he needed, until there was nothing left in him that would be able to think clearly.

He got a little hopeful when the seat beside him emptied and a man slipped in to take it. The man gave him a quick look-over and the appreciation in that look was easy to see. Spencer tipped his head just slightly and took his own look through lowered lashes. A good looking guy, this one. Looked to be just an inch or two shorter than Spencer, though his body was built more like Derek’s. That fit body was packed into jeans and an AC/DC t-shirt. He was blond, not typically Spencer's type, but his green eyes were bright and interested and the look in them was enough to have Spencer shiver slightly.

The man ordered a beer and then turned to face Spencer a little more openly, beer held in hand. “It’s such a waste.” He said suddenly, his voice pitched to be heard over the music.

Spencer smiled just slightly and took the offered bait, turning towards the man a little more and tipping his head enough that he could meet his eyes briefly. “Pardon?”

“I said it’s such a waste.” The man repeated. His smile grew just a little more flirtatious. “A beauty like you, hiding here on the sidelines. It’s a shame.”

That brought just a slight hint of color to Spencer's cheeks. The compliment was a line, yes, but the look in the man’s eyes was sincere enough. The guy shifted his beer to one hand and held out his other towards Spencer. "I'm Dean."

Spencer pushed past his usual need to avoid shaking hands. "Spencer."

His first clue that this wasn’t going to work out was Dean’s handshake. That may’ve sounded silly to others, but it was part of a system that worked for Spencer. A handshake could tell you a lot about a person. Dean’s handshake was at total contrast to his physical looks. It wasn’t strong or sure, but a soft clasping of hands, the man’s skin soft and smooth like silk. The profiler in Spencer automatically logged away that information and analyzed it, a habit he couldn’t ever seem to break. _He doesn’t work with his hands. His skin is too soft for that. No callouses whatsoever._

Dean didn’t seem to notice Spencer's observations. Or, if he did, he assumed they meant interest. His body turned just a little more to Spencer so that he was fully facing him now. “So what’s an angel like you doing hiding on the sidelines, Spencer? You should be out there, captivating the crowd.”

Just barely did Spencer resist rolling his eyes. That was _definitely_ a line, one that he could guess Dean used quite often. Spencer tried to hold in a sigh. Dean was being polite, friendly, and flirtatious— albeit a bit cheesy—and on any other night, Spencer would’ve been flattered. Just, not tonight. This wasn’t what he needed tonight. He pushed aside the little flair of disappointment. This wasn’t the end of things. It would’ve been unusual for the first man he came across to be the one. Unfortunately, that meant he had to politely make his disinterest known to Dean. Changing his smile to a gentler, apologetic one, Spencer shifted back a bit in his seat, leaning slightly away from the man. “I’m not really a dancer. I’m content to sit back and enjoy the music.”

Seeing that Spencer had just finished his wine and was setting his glass down, Dean didn’t miss a beat, offering “At least let me buy you another drink.”

“No, that’s quite all right, but thank you.” Spencer declined politely.

“Come on, one drink. A thank you for your company, at least.”

A slightly less polite reply was on Spencer's lips when he suddenly found himself distracted by the warmth of someone brushing past his back to slide down into the seat next to him. The two women must’ve gone, then. Through the music he caught a low hum of a male voice, deeper and with something to it that changed the sound. An accent? It was hard to tell over the music and the sound of Dean’s voice.

Spencer momentarily ignored Dean’s continued attempts at persuasion and he turned his head just enough to peek through a screen of hair to see who had settled in next to him. As he was turning his head he caught sight of the barman pouring more wine into his glass, though he hadn’t asked for it. At the same time, that warmth pressed in close again, more to his side than his back this time, and a husky voice with a thick Cajun sound practically purred in his ear. “Here y’ go, cher.” A long fingered hand came out, lifting his glass and holding it out to him. “Y’ looked like y’ was thirsty fo’ somet’ing.”

A good first move here. Appreciating it, Spencer turned to not only thank the man, but to take his first good look at him. His voice alone had been enough to catch Spencer's interest. What he found when he turned was even better. A quick sweep of his eyes took in every bit of the delicious looking man that was half siting, half leaning against the bar. A tall man, probably taller than Spencer by a few inches. Lean, yet with obvious strength there. The jeans and shirt he wore fit well enough to perfectly showcase a powerful looking body. The hand that held out the wine glass was long and delicate, yet he didn’t doubt that there was strength there as well. A thrill rippled through Spencer at the thought of those hands and what they could do to him.

The face was a prize to look at too. High cheekbones that women had to be jealous of, full lips that were currently curved in a smirk that was both sinful and flirtatious. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, giving him a slightly mysterious look. Odd to be wearing sunglasses inside a club. Auburn hair framed the man’s face and Spencer found himself wanting to reach out and tuck a bit of the loose hair behind one ear, just for an excuse to touch it. He resisted the urge and instead reached out to take his glass from the man. The touch of their fingers sent a small charge through him that had him sucking in a breath. He didn’t think the sound could’ve been heard, but the man’s lips curved a little more as if he’d heard it and was pleased by it.

Oh, yeah, this guy definitely had potential. Spencer kept his head tilted down, using just his eyes to look up at the man’s handsome face, and he softly thanked him.

“It’s my pleasure.” The man replied.

Though he couldn’t see the guy’s eyes, Spencer swore he could feel them on him, running over him, and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine. The nerves and excitement and fear he’d felt earlier when he’d been preparing to come here now came back. It looked like he might just be lucky tonight. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait long to find what he needed. The thought had him unconsciously biting at his lip in anticipation. When he realized, he quickly lifted his glass to take a drink, hoping to hide his slightly flushed cheeks and maybe cool himself off just the slightest bit.

The taste of the wine here was a pleasure, one that he always enjoyed. It was one thing he really liked about this place. Their wine was fantastic. He gave a small hum of pleasure, his tongue running over his top and then bottom lip, drawing in every drop. This time it was the Cajun who sucked in a breath. Hearing it, Spencer flicked his eyes up again. He realized that the man was watching him, watching his mouth, and the intensity of his gaze was like a warm caress. Spencer both flushed underneath it and preened at the same time. He totally forgot about Dean on the other side of him, who was trying to get his attention. All of his attention was on the Cajun that practically oozed sex and charm. He looked up at the man and let his own appreciation show in his eyes, hoping this guy would be able to see it all, and he kept his voice low as he introduced himself. “My name’s Spencer.”

The man murmured something in a language Spencer couldn’t quite catch over the music, and then he reached out and used one finger to draw Spencer's hair away from his face and tuck it behind his ear. “Remy LeBeau, at y’r service, cher.” The infliction that Remy put on those words left absolutely no doubt as to what he meant.

Remy settled a little more onto his stool and he picked up a glass that Spencer hadn’t noticed the bartender preparing for him. He took a sip and then smiled over the top of his glass, looking absolutely devilish. “I noticed y’ looking round de room b’fore. Y’ look like y’r looking fo’ somet’ing.”

“You could say that.” Spencer agreed.

“Y’ meeting someone here t’night?”

This was a game Spencer was quite familiar with. He dropped his chin down just a bit and looked up through his lashes in a look he’d learned from a girl back in college. “I definitely hope so.” He murmured flirtatiously. In the average, day-to-day world, Spencer knew he had no hopes of flirting. He was too awkward, too unsure of himself, to ever flirt without making a fool of himself. But this wasn’t the same. It was different for him. This was more them testing the waters with one another, each trying to find out if the other was what they wanted, what they needed. There was no worry about looking a fool because there was no worry about ever seeing the person again. If this worked, he’d have a great night and then move on. If it didn’t work, he’d try someone else. There was no need to make a good impression for future moments.

Remy sure seemed to be enjoying his efforts. He shifted on his seat until their knees were brushing together and his free hand settled just above Spencer's knee. “Maybe I can help y’ wit’ dat. Me being a helpful soul an all dat.”

“Is that so?” Humor touched Spencer's lips. He hid a small smile behind his glass.

Chuckling, Remy nodded. “ _Oui_. Helped get y’ away from dat dull _homme_ y’ was talking wit’ b’fore, didn’t I?”

The reminder of Dean had Spencer startling a little. He quickly looked back to where the man had been sitting only to find someone else there now. Oops. Sheepishly, he turned back to Remy, a little flustered at finding out that he’d basically bailed on Dean and then forgot about him completely. He wasn’t typically that rude to someone. “He wasn’t dull.” He felt the need to defend him. “He was…nice.” His lips twisted just slightly on that last word. Dean had been nice. Unfortunately for him, nice just wasn’t what Spencer wanted.

Remy must’ve caught something in Spencer's tone there because his attention sharpened a little and Spencer swore he could really feel the man’s gaze. He wished he could reach up and take Remy’s sunglasses off. He wanted to see the man’s eyes. But, he kept his hands to himself and watched, waiting, as Remy stared at him. Spencer swore he could actually see it as Remy found whatever it was he was looking for. His body language shifted, a little more confident, a little more sexual, and the heat that was building between them seemed to intensify a little. Remy’s hand lifted off of Spencer's leg and went up to his hair once more. Only this time he didn’t tuck it behind Spencer's ear. Instead, he threaded his fingers through it, letting them slip back to cup Spencer's head. “Nice, hm?” He purred. His fingers curled, fisting in Spencer's hair, and his smirk grew at Spencer's soft little gasp. He brought their faces a little closer together until their lips were just a breath apart. “Y’r not looking fo’ nice, are y’, Spencer?”

Oh sweet God. That grip tightened a little more and Spencer couldn’t stop from giving a small whimper. The club around them seemed to fade away. More than anything in the world, he wanted Remy to close that last breath of distance, wanted those lips on his. His voice, when he got it to work, had turned lower and slightly breathy, hard to hear in the noise around them. “Please.” This was what he wanted. He didn’t want a flirtation and a romance. He wanted, needed, someone strong enough to take him.

Remy nipped lightly at his bottom lip, chuckling when Spencer gasped. “Patience, petit.” He nipped at Spencer's lip again, harder this time. “Let’s get outta here first.”

That sounded like a hell of an idea. Spencer wasn’t the type to play coy once he knew what he wanted. Once Remy let go of his hair, reaching instead to catch his hand and lace their fingers together, he had no hesitation about rising and following him out of the club. A pleased hum built in his throat when he realized that he’d been right; Remy had a few inches on him in height. He did love having a man that was taller than him. The need from earlier was pushing through him again, like a pulsing, living thing. It stole his words away so that he followed silently as they went out into the cool night air. He gave a soft little shiver at the drastic change in temperature. But he didn’t stop moving, his hand still linked with Remy’s, letting himself be drawn over to the parking lot and to a motorcycle waiting nearby.

To his surprise, Remy stopped beside the bike and turned towards him. “I gotta ask, b’fore we go any further. I gotta make sure dis is what y’ want, Spencer. Dat y’ know what y’r getting into.” For a second, Spencer thought Remy was talking about what they were going to do. Then Remy lifted his free hand and pushed his sunglasses up and Spencer knew exactly what the other man meant. Remy’s eyes were the sexiest, most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The irises were red while the sclera, the white part of the eye, was black. The red seemed to be glowing with the very heat that Spencer had been feeling between them from the start. They stared at him, burning down into him, and there was only one thing that Spencer could think of to do. He didn’t actually think, really. He just let his body lead, leaning in until they were chest to chest, tipping his head up in an obvious request that Remy didn’t hesitate to respond to. His kiss was hot and hard and just exactly what Spencer wanted. Spencer threw his all into it, arms coming up to wrap around Remy’s shoulders, enjoying the hands that gripped tightly to his hips and held their bodies pressed together.

When Remy pulled back, Spencer tried to follow, wanting to continue that kiss, to keep feeling the lust that was burning between them. Remy looked down at him and his eyes flashed while his hands gripped just a little tighter. “ _Dieu._ Look at y’. Y’r a wanton little t’ing, aint y’?” He drew Spencer in, deliberately grinding them together so that Spencer could feel just how hard they both were, making the young genius moan lowly. Remy spat out a curse and let go, taking a full step back. His eyes seemed even brighter. Grabbing the helmet off the handlebars, he handed it over to Spencer. “Get on de bike, cher, b’fore I fo’get m’self an bend y’ over de bike and take y’ right here.”

God! Spencer felt himself grow harder at that and he gave a little shudder. Not for the public part of things—he wasn’t an exhibitionist—but at the idea of just being bent over and taken, no question in the matter, no choice.

Remy saw the shudder and he muttered something else that sounded like a curse. HE turned quickly and straddled his bike. Spencer moved just as quickly, drawing the helmet on and locking it in place before climbing on behind Remy. He pressed in close and wrapped his arms tightly around Remy’s waist, enjoying the firm body he was pressed up against. When the bike turned on and the vibrations ran through them, Spencer knew this was going to be one hell of a ride.

* * *

If asked later, Spencer couldn’t have described the route they took, or even the hotel they arrived at. He didn’t really notice anything even as Remy took them into an elevator and up to his room. All of his focus was on keeping his hands to himself and not jumping on the man right where they were. Remy seemed to be of the same mind. He kept his hands to himself until they made it inside of his hotel room.

Spencer was the last one in the room and he shut the door carefully behind him. When he turned around, Remy was right there, only inches away from him. All the lust that they’d held back before was pushing towards the surface now. The heat that Spencer had felt before had only grown. For someone who could talk so much normally, he seemed to have lost the ability to speak well tonight. He couldn’t find a single thing to say as he watched Remy take a small step forward, bringing their bodies right up against one another, pushing Spencer back against the door. Spencer couldn’t stop the small pleased sound from humming up his throat at the feel of the strong body pushing up against him. Red-on-black eyes locked on his, pupils already dilating with lust, and that sinful mouth was quirked up at the corner. Remy’s free hand came up, wrapping around the back of his neck, firmly holding him in place so that, when Remy leaned in, they were just scant inches apart. “Y’ got one last chance to walk away here, Spencer. If y’ want it, take it now.” The hand on Spencer’s neck gave a squeeze, making the young genius close his eyes, his chin tipping up in silent appeal.

He heard Remy make a sound he couldn’t quite decipher and then the hand on his neck was shifting, curving around the side, coming up underneath his chin and forcing his chin up higher at the same time that Remy’s hips pushed a little more. Spencer swore he felt it as all the blood in his body shot straight to his cock. His hands slapped back to press against the door and he bit his lip. God! Very, very rarely did anyone catch that hint, yet Remy had caught it instantly.

There was a whisper of movement and then Remy’s warm breath was right by his ear, making him shiver. “ _Mais_ , but y’ respond s’ sweet, cher. Look at y’. Y’r a little masochist, aint y’? Look at how hot y’ are with just a little dominance.”

Because it wasn’t in him to submit completely and because he wanted to see just what the other man would do, Spencer just had to test his bounds. “You couldn’t handle me.” He whispered back before he bucked his hips in an effort to dislodge Remy at the same time as trying to pull his head back. The response he got was more than he’d expected and fit perfectly into what he wanted. Remy’s hips rode with his before slamming back into him and forcefully pinning him against the door with a thud that people nearby probably heard. The hand at his throat tightened; not enough to cut off his air yet but enough to threaten to. Remy’s other hand slid off his hip and into the small of his back, pulling him in close and tight.

A sharp nip at his ear had Spencer’s knees quivering. “Fight all y’ want, cher. I’ll enjoy de fight just as much as I’ll enjoy winning.” That cocky confidence sent an arrow of heat through Spencer. Yes, he’d made the right choice. This man was _exactly_ what he wanted. That sinful mouth was moving along his jawline and all Spencer could think was _Yes, now, please, kiss me now, yes, yes_. His body was on fire and he wanted only one thing; could only think of that one thing. Who cared about any other pleasantries? They were both knew what they were here for, what they wanted. When Remy’s lips were at the edge of his, Spencer arched against the hands holding him, silently begging for more, needing more. Bless him, Remy gave it to him.

Their second kiss was just as mind blowing as the first. Remy’s mouth assaulted his, wringing a gasp from the him which only prompted Remy to slip his tongue into the now parted lips, tasting and teasing and driving Spencer absolutely mad. There were so many sensations, all at once, he could barely focus. The mouth on his, that talented tongue dueling with his own. The hand on his throat that had a nice, tight grip, keeping him in place so that he couldn’t run away. The other hand on his hip, holding him tightly. And the hard, hot body pressed right up against his and, oh shit, the hips that were grinding into his.

He brought his hands up, grabbing at Remy’s shirt to pull him even closer. One leg lifted and curled around Remy’s hip, making them press even more intimately together. Remy broke their kiss with a ragged curse, hips jerking at the change in sensation. He dropped his hand from Spencer’s neck, bracing the young man on both hips, pulling slightly. Spencer got the clue. He moved his hands up to Remy’s shoulders and braced before lifting his other leg up, wrapping it as well so that his legs were locked together behind Remy’s back. He was running solely off of sensation now, his brain only able to focus on him and Remy and what was exploding between them. His hands slid up to cup Remy’s face and yank him in for another kiss. This time it was Spencer whose tongue darted out; Spencer who took. He felt Remy’s hands drop back, cupping his ass, kneading him through his jeans, and he moaned into their kiss.

Remy drew them away from the door and back into the room in a show of strength that only made Spencer moan. He ground his hips down and moaned happily when he found himself pushed up against another wall after only a few steps. With Spencer braced, it freed Remy’s hands enough that he could grab at the hem of Spencer’s shirt and tug up until he could pull it up and over his head, breaking their kiss for just a split second. When the shirt was on the floor, Spencer found himself pinned by Remy’s eyes just as much as he was by his body. “I’m gonna take y’ hard and fast de first time.” Remy promised in that husky Cajun drawl of his, sending shivers down Spencer's spine. He ran firm, calloused hands up and over Spencer's sides, up to his chest where he pinched at his nipples, making Spencer gasp and writhe against the wall. Remy let out a pleased sounding chuckle. “I’m gonna leave y’ a mindless puddle in de middle of de bed. Den I’m gonna start all over again.”

“God.” Spencer breathed out. “Do it. _Do it_.”

That was the only encouragement Remy needed. He pulled them away from the wall, making the effort to head further inside what Spencer was just now realizing was a suite. They only made it to the living room area before once more Spencer found himself against the wall, this time with enough force that the picture hanging there fell down. Wanting more, Spencer dropped his legs, making it easier for his hands to get in and start tugging at Remy’s shirt. Remy’s mouth latched onto his neck, licking and biting and tasting, and Spencer threw his head back, thumping it against the wall. He somehow managed to get enough coordination to pull the man’s shirt up and actually get it over his head, tossing it off to the side. As they broke apart this time, Spencer reached a hand down, grabbing one shoe and yanking it off, letting it land where it would. Remy was doing the same. Shoes and socks joined the torn shirt on the floor and then they came back together, chest to chest, skin heating skin, hands grabbing and holding and feeling and then they were moving once more, not even paying attention to the end table they knocked into.

When they ran into the couch, though, it overbalanced them enough that they tumbled, Remy twisting them just enough that Spencer found himself landing on his back across the cushions instead of on the floor. Not that he would’ve cared either way if it meant he ended up with Remy lying on him like this. He was pinned down by Remy’s weight and he shamelessly let his legs fall open so the man dropped between them. Hands were at his belt, pulling it free, while lips were moving over his jawline. “Look at y’, so hot and wanton. Y’ need dis, don’t y’?” Remy murmured against his skin in a husky whisper. “Y’ need de fight just as badly as y’ need someone strong enough to win.”

When teeth closed over the top of his neck, marking the skin, Spencer moaned loudly, his nails dragging down Remy’s back. “Yes, yes, I need it, Remy. _God_.” He didn’t care that he was begging. He would beg all night long just so long as this never stopped.

“ _Bon_.” With that murmured praise, Remy sucked on the spot he’d just bit, drawing a bruise. In contrast to the softness of his voice, Remy’s hands were hard and fast, yanking Spencer’s belt free and undoing his jeans quickly. Spencer’s hands moved around Remy’s sides, going to unhook his pants as well. It took maneuvering and twisting, but the two men shed their pants there on the couch until Spencer was in only his boxers and Remy was completely naked, a sight Spencer barely had time to enjoy before he was being kissed senseless once more.

Eventually, Remy broke their kiss and grabbed hold of Spencer's hand, yanking him up and over to the door a few feet away that took them into the bedroom part of the suite. Spencer got a quick view of a large bed and then the Cajun was toppling them both onto the bed and Spencer found himself stretched out, hands pinned above him, once more with Remy’s weight over him. That much skin against skin was enough to have Spencer moaning. His moans grew louder as Remy started to taste each inch of exposed skin, working his way lower and lower. He let go of Spencer’s hands with a growled out “Stay.” And then his mouth was latching on to one pebbled nipple, biting the sensitized flesh and making Spencer arch and cry out.

Spencer brought his hands down, wanting, _needing_ , to touch. But Remy let out a low growl and he caught Spencer's wrists both in one hand, slamming them back down. “Keep em dere.”

There was no missing the way that Spencer's cock jumped at that. Remy smirked a little, sure that Spencer would stay where he was put. Then he went back to exploring his body. Spencer fought to keep his hands still. Really, he did. As Remy tortured one nipple and then the other, Spencer thrashed under the sensations and his moans grew louder and louder, but he tried to keep his hands still. When Remy moved down his stomach, tracing his tongue over one of the scars there, Spencer made as if to stop him, to say something, but then Remy was going lower and his tongue was darting into Spencer’s belly button at the same time that those talented hands were pulling at his boxers, yanking them down and off in one smooth move. When one of those long fingered hands wrapped around him, Spencer almost screamed.

He felt Remy slide back up, his hand still wrapped around Spencer’s cock, pumping it slowly and firmly. Propped up on his other arm, Remy looked down into Spencer’s face, watching him as he writhed and made sounds that should have embarrassed him, yet they didn’t. “Remy…” His name came out as a breathless plea. For what, Spencer wasn’t too sure. He wanted so much right then. When the hand let go of him, he moaned at the loss. Eyes heavy with lust, he watched Remy shift on the bed, moving to grab something from the nightstand. It put him in just the right position that Spencer could lift himself and slip forward and do one of the many things he was aching to do. Before Remy could stop him, Spencer moved right up to the man’s impressive hard on and he swooped down, taking him in his mouth. Though not extremely thick, the other man was long. Spencer had to slowly move his head down, letting his throat adjust as he took his full length in.

He felt Remy’s body jerk at the first contact and he heard him moan, loudly. Spencer hummed with satisfaction as he took more of him in. Remy straightened back up and Spencer moved with him, getting in a better position to fully enjoy himself. He pulled back before sliding forward, giving just a small scrape of teeth, a bit of suction, and he was rewarded with Remy’s jerking hips and a hand coming up to thread in the hair at the back of his head. He didn’t mind the touch at all. If anything, he wanted _more_. He got it when he deep throated the man. Remy’s hand convulsively tightened in his hair before loosening and pulling back just a little, almost in apology. Spencer couldn’t speak to tell him it was okay so he repeated his gesture, sucking Remy in deep, hollowing out his cheeks. Once more Remy’s hand tightened and this time Spencer hummed happily. Remy got the hint.

The hand in Spencer’s hair locked tight, right on that pain/pleasure edge once more, and Spencer moaned loudly around the hardness in his mouth. He bobbed his head faster, loving the taste and feel of him, and yet aching to have Remy inside of him. When the hand in his hair pulled his head back, pulling them apart, Spencer didn’t protest. He let Remy lay him down and then those lips were on his again, Remy’s tongue in his mouth, and Spencer moaned, knowing the other man could taste himself. A hand settled around his throat, pinning him to the bed in a bruising grip that had Spencer’s cock twitching and a gasping moan slipping out.

Fingers dropped down between Spencer’s legs, going low to trace over the puckered entrance there. Spencer let his thighs fall open and he pushed his hips down, begging for more. He felt the cool fingers probing at his entrance, the cold such a contrast to the heat that was in the rest of his skin. It had been so long since Spencer had done this that it took a second for that first finger to slide in. He pushed down against it, welcoming that feeling.

One finger turned to two and Spencer broke their kiss to drop his head back against the bed. The burn was there, making him shudder. He felt Remy stop, waiting a moment for him to adjust, and then those fingers were moving, sliding in and out of him, scissoring to stretch his body until Spencer started to push against them. Remy had let go of his throat and was watching him again. His eyes were so dilated the red was just a thin ring. As two turned to three, that burn hit again, enough to make him wince this time, but Remy’s fingers twisted and curled and rubbed against that place inside that had Spencer’s whole body bowing. Lights exploded behind his eyes and he barely noticed the moan that was more a sob that came past his lips. His hips moved, pushing and rolling, fucking himself on Remy’s fingers while grinding their aching cocks together until the both of them were panting and sweating. Now. It had to be now, or it would be over with before they got the chance.

The fingers left him and he could hear Remy tearing open the condom, sliding it on and then he was back, his body stretching over Spencer’s. Their eyes locked when Remy pressed against him, seeking entrance. Slowly, never breaking eye contact, Remy pushed in. Heat gripped Spencer as he was inexorably filled by the man above him. The burn was there, but the pleasure was greater, making him ache in an entirely different way. Yet…Remy was being oh so careful with him all of a sudden and it had Spencer whining slightly in his throat. He didn’t want to take this slow. Didn’t want nice and easy. What had happened to the man who’d wrestled up here with him? Needing, aching, desperate, Spencer lifted his legs and locked them around Remy’s waist, using them to yank the man close, fully impaling himself on that hard heat, relishing in the sharp stab of pain just as much as the feeling of fullness that nothing else could replace. Remy’s moan mixed with his in the otherwise quiet room.

“So.” Remy gasped out. “Dat’s how y’ want dis, den, huh?” Pulling almost all the way out, until just the tip was in, Remy shoved back in, hard and fast, making Spencer cry out.

Spencer brought his hands up, needing to hold on to something, anything. Put his hands on Remy’s back, holding him close, as the man thrust in once more. The room filled with the sound of slapping flesh and the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall and moans that were almost screams peppered with the occasional plea or whispered English and Cajun words.

All of a sudden Remy pulled free and Spencer moaned loudly at the empty feeling. It didn’t last long. Hands gripped his hips and Spencer found himself being flipped over. He immediately drew his knees up under him, pushing his backside up into the air, and the hiss that Remy gave at the wanton display thrilled him. Remy gave him no quarter. There was no gentleness, just as Spencer wanted. Firm hands gripped his hips so tightly he knew they’d bruise tomorrow and there was one soft press as their bodies were lined up and then Remy gave a hard push and slammed in deep until the front of his thighs pressed against the back of Spencer's. A howl tore out of Spencer that people probably heard rooms away. He didn’t care. His hands scrabbled at the blankets and he tried to move, to get Remy to move, anything but staying frozen like this!

Remy moved with sharp snaps of his hips that kept pushing Spencer down into the bed, leaving him unable to get enough leverage to get up on his hands and knees. All he could do was kneel there with his face down in the bed and sob out his pleasure as Remy fucked into him hard and fast, as he bent down over him and pressed sucking, biting kisses into his back, his spine, marking him all over. The force of their coupling moved them on the bed and Spencer's knees spread wider, bringing Remy in even deeper. A long stream of Cajun followed that Spencer didn’t understand. Then a hand moved off his hip, scratching up his spine until it reached his hair, and Spencer keened loudly when it fisted into his hair and held his head down. He was turned just enough to still be able to gasp in air but there was no way he could move out from Remy’s hold. One hand in his hair, one on his hip, and the solid heat of him shoving deep into him; Spencer was pinned, trapped here in the most delicious way.

The lust was like a bonfire in him now and it was burning him apart. Spencer felt it growing and growing and knew that soon he was going to come apart, the pleasure too much. The hand on his hip abruptly let go and slid around, grasping his leaking cock, and Spencer's moan echoed around the room. “Dat’s it.” Remy panted, his thrusts picking up speed. “Y’r so fuckin hot, so tight. Let go. Let me feel y’ come.”

It was as if his body had only been waiting for those words. No sooner had Remy said them than the pleasure exploded in Spencer and he was bucking into Remy’s hand, screaming into the bedding as Remy shoved his face down more to muffle him. Remy rode out his orgasm, milking his cock until there was nothing left to give and Spencer was nothing more than a limp body underneath him. Only then did Remy move both hands back to Spencer's hips. His thrusts were harder, faster, lasting only moments more before he shoved in deep and gave a throaty cry of his own as his completion crested through him.

Spencer was barely coherent when Remy’s weight dropped down over him. Skin pressing against skin, the both of them sweaty and panting. How long they lay there, he had no idea, but eventually their breathing evened out and their bodies cooled. He was perfectly happy and content to stay in the position he was in. The last thing he wanted was to move. Apparently that wasn’t meant to be. Remy shifted off of him, sliding out and making them both moan a little bit. “I t’ink y’ done dis Cajun in, cher.” Remy said with a husky laugh. He was pulling his condom off, tying it off and tossing it into the garbage can before stumbling his way out of bed.

Spencer was working on getting up. Really, he was. His body was just too relaxed to want to cooperate. However, he did manage to make his throat work. “Thanks.”

Chuckling, Remy walked back over to the bed, sitting down beside Spencer. In his hand he had…a washcloth? Spencer found out why a second later. Remy ran it over his stomach, cleaning up the mess there. “Y’ look like a content cat, all stretched out dere.” Remy teased him. He tossed the washcloth off to the side before sliding back in the bed. As Spencer started to force himself to move, thinking that he should really go and wash up properly, he found himself being abruptly pinned down on his back, Remy stretched out over him. Bright eyes smiled down at him and those sinful little lips were smirking once more. “Where do y’ t’ink y’r going?” Remy purred.

“To clean up.” Spencer answered. He tried to focus on what he was saying and not on the firm body that was holding him down to the bed.

Remy chuckled and dropped his head, nuzzling at Spencer's neck. “Why? Y’r just gonna get dirty again.” He bit at Spencer's neck, right below his ear, sucking a mark to life and drawing a low moan from Spencer that only made Remy laugh again. He pressed a kiss over his mark and moved down, licking over still damp skin. “I told y’, cher, I was gonna fuck y’ hard de first time, till y’ was a puddle in de bed. Den I was gonna start all over again.”

Son of a bitch. Spencer let his hands weakly fall to the bed. How could he even think to protest to that?

Another chuckle sounded, just a bit huskier than before, and he felt a nip right over his Adam’s apple. “Just lay back, cher, and enjoy de ride.”

As another mark was brought to life on his collarbone, Spencer thought that was perfect advice, and he let himself slump down into the bed, giving himself over to the pleasure to come, his inner demons silenced for now.

 


End file.
